


Fell Hypnos

by AmethystScholar



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Abuse, Carnivalstuck, Dave goes to medical school don't question me, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Humanstuck, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, In a way, Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Marijuana, Mind Control, Or a form of it bluh, Other, Physical Abuse, Teenagers, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, We'll pretend that kismesitude (sp) is normal for humans as well, gamzee is hitting that bong, i should probably stop with these tags, i'll probably add more as this goes along though lmao, what am I doing with my life, what the hell is formatting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystScholar/pseuds/AmethystScholar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be simple. Damara would take Kankri to the hypnotism tent at the county fair, he'd go in (and maybe be hypnotized into not preaching so much), and Damara would take a smoke break outside. That part was a piece of cake. What happened after? Not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming of the Storm

  “I _highly dislike_ this place,” Kankri Vantas moaned, staring sadly at the chocolate ice cream that had fallen off his cone and onto the sizzling hot concrete. “It’s so problematic, I can’t even put it into words. Triggers for this place include food, claustrophobia, heights, screaming, bad odors-”

  “You are a baby,” Kankri’s girlfriend jabbed his shoulder, young adult bristling at Damara Megido’s sharp touch. “Fair is meant to be...how do American teenages put it? ‘Hella fun’. You need to relax.”

  “Well, I obviously cannot relax with you poking me. And what have I said about unsolicited touching?”

  The boy’s Japanese girlfriend grinned, grabbing his arm and leaning into his ear before he could even begin to protest and yell about triggers.

  “Shush," Damara said, her hand tantalizingly close to Kankri's package. "If you are good boy, I touch you extra special later.”

  The brunette man blushed wildly, trying to stammer out a reply, but fell short at the sight of the attraction list that Damara had suddenly whipped out of her pocket, breaking their intimate connection.

  “Okay, I see here!” The tall Japanese woman smiled, starting to walk along the pavement with Kankri at her side, still a quivering, blushy mess, this time with a slight erection. “One last place, then we done.”

  “Oh dear unspecified deity yes,” Kankri thanked his good fortune. “What would that be?”

  “Hypnotism tent. Ask to make you not whining so.”

  Kankri revoked his appreciation for his fortune.

* * *

 

  The tent didn’t look like much, but Kankri hadn’t expected anything more from a seedy county fair. The whole damn thing was falling apart, its red and white stripes faded, the fabric torn in countless places, and impossibly small to boot. The sign may have said “Mindfang’s House of Hypnotism,”, but the tent screamed “The owner of this tent will either soon be homeless or become a prostitute. Help us.”.

  Kankri didn’t like the idea of someone messing with his mind, the fact that for a limited time, he’d be a slave to someone else. Only Damara could make him a slave, and as far as Kankri knew, she hadn’t done that _quite_ yet. But if he just went inside for a little bit, she would give him pure bliss. The butterflies in his stomach were still as trepidated as ever, though.

  He turned to his flirtatious datemate, anxiety sending chills down his spine. They were the first people in line, the eleventh hour coming closer and closer with each passing second, his heart beating like a cannon.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

_Forget about the sex!_ Kankri’s brain pleaded. _Get out of here while you still can!_

  The boy in the red sweater was at the ready, ready to flee, ready to sprint, ready to become a coward if it meant nobody would ever lay their greasy, filthy hands on his mind. Ready, set-

 “Next!”

  Kankri Vantas snapped back to reality, blinking twice to find a short woman in an ornate robe and veil holding the flap of the tent open, her previous customer leaving with a stammered thanks.

  “Go on, you wet noodle,” Damara hissed. “Remember what I say before.”

  “You’re not coming?”

  “No. You need to be brave.”

  “But I-”

  “I don’t have all day!” The veiled woman snapped. “Just come in with him.”

  Damara was silent for once, tension between the three as tight as a violin string, ready to break at any moment. But Kankri was the one who broke it.

  With bated breath and trembling limbs, he stepped towards the rude woman, the tent swallowing him in a wave of red and white. Damara stomped out of line and plopped herself down at a grimy table, pulling out from her purse the cigarettes that her boyfriend so detested. She could finally smoke in peace. And yet, she couldn’t help but have the feeling that something was off about Mindfang. It might have been her voice or attitude or stature, but whatever it was, something sparked a deja vu in Damara.

  And it wasn’t pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work on here, and my first fic that has not been a troll/crackfic. Have any of you ever read of "Harmonia's Big Adventure" or "America Love New York"? Yeah, those were mine. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this! This is going to be in a format where there will be lots of chapters, but shorter than average. Think "Peter and the Starcatchers". Also, friendly reminder that you're a gem of a human being and I hope you succeed in everything you do. Cheers!


	2. Resurrection

  Damara was a girl who couldn’t tolerate tardiness in anybody but herself. So when her boyfriend hadn’t come out of the tent in a half hour, she was naturally fucking pissed.

  “The line is moving,” she muttered to herself in her native Japanese as a woman with a cane entered the tent, just as the five people in front of her had. They all seemed to come out of the same flap- except Kankri. “That bitch is playing a prank on me.”

  Except it wasn’t like Kankri to joke around to any degree, a direct contrast to Damara’s tendency to use the language barrier to mess with people whenever she could. Kankri and Damara were complete opposites for sure, but they were both linked by a deep love that seemingly transcended the usual definition of romance, connecting them ever since they went to high school together, and now college.

  Five years of the immigrant’s life had been spent with the arrogant, yet lovable boy, so her anger was mixed with genuine concern, something she worked very hard to conceal. Any displayed emotions other than anger and promiscuity were weaknesses, not strengths.

  Her smartphone held no clues either. No texts or phone calls from Kankri in the past hour. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead, fingers tapping wildly on the screen. “Where are you?”

  A minute passed. Nothing. More and more text messages followed, each more frantic than the last, with no reply or any recognition that Kankri had seen her desperate prose at all. A pang of terror struck her heart, a reminder of the panic attacks that had once come to her on a daily basis, back when she had been a nerdy kid living in Mitaka City. Damara fought to swallow the bile rising in her throat. It was time to focus on the present, not the past. And presently, there was one thing that might give her a clue as to Kankri’s whereabouts.

  Running to the hypnotists tent, she shoved her way past the line and into the canopy, people behind her protesting and swearing at the furious girl. But pushing her way past the flaps, she was met with a surprise. There was no sign of the veiled woman from earlier, but a long haired Hispanic man and a chubby preteen sitting at a table. But Damara wasn’t buying it.

  “Where is he?” she demanded, the other two stunned. “There was a short woman here, and there be a boy before- his name is Kankri. He is wearing a red sweater and jeans. He has brown hair and a...a…long face.”

_Please let those be the right English words, please let those be the right English words…_

  “There hasn’t been anyone here all day wearing red but you, child,” the Hispanic man said, “and not with any short woman I have knowledge of. Now, if you would please leave.”

  Damara studied the Hispanic man’s mug. He seemed genuine enough for her. And the preteen seemed more interested with playing with the dirt under his fingernails than he was with her.

  The Asian woman stormed off, not looking at anyone. She had a feeling she would bite their faces off if she did. There was nothing left but to go home at this point and see if the asshole she called a boyfriend was there. He had to be, because the parking lot revealed that Kankri had left the park.

  “Fucker took the car.”

* * *

  The bus had been slow, costly, and smelly, like most forms of public transportation on Staten Island, or public transportation in general, so Damara was in Hulk mode by the time she had made it to her apartment. Every step she took was a stomp, her face as red as her crimson dress, eyes scanning each floor for Kankri as she mentally ran through a list of possible scenarios. So far, the top candidate was Kankri having amnesia, but not to the point where he couldn’t drive. It was ridiculous, but was far better than any of the other dark conclusions lurking in the back of her mind.

  “You’d better be in here, _kono yarou_ ,” she snarled, barging in, slamming the door behind her so loud it shook the whole building.

  To both her relief and annoyance, Kankri was sprawled out on the couch, in something most peculiar. Nothing.

  “Hello, bitch,” he smiled at her with an evil, glazed look in his eye.

  Damara was taken aback. Bitch? Usually such a word would come from someone else, someone who wasn’t “triggered” by swears. But Kankri's strangeness didn’t curb her anger.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Damara yelled. “To run away in that manner, to take the car and leave me on the fair, to not say back to any of my messages or phone calls-”

  She could have gone on and on forever in her rage, but she was cut short by Kankri leaping from the living room couch and pinning her against the door, locking it as he put a finger to her lips.

  “You are so cute and stupid,” Kankri sniggered, “you can’t even speak properly. Isn’t that right? You need me, love. You may act so tough and bitchy, but deep down you’re just a scared little kid.”

  Damara had planned on being angry, but now she was torn between confusion, horniness, and melancholy. The words were like poisoned honey, the delivery harsh and raw, but the words holding more than an inkling of truth. Kankri had been the one to be a translator for her in a way, though his Japanese was nothing more than bits and phrases he had learned off of the internet. He had come into her life years ago, helping her to grow accustomed to the world. He had been a friend, a boyfriend, and in some ways a rival. Now his words, as uncharacteristic of him as they were, made her freeze in her tracks. How dependent had she really been on him?

  He seemed to understand her thought process as his eyes narrowed, softly grinding up against her, his breath stinking of beer for some reason.

  “That’s right, bitch, you’re going to now make up for the years I’ve spent on you,” Kankri grabbed the strap of Damara’s dress. “No more teasing. No more fucking around. Just you and me, and you will not say no, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Those were the words that Damara would have normally been excited about, ready to lay herself at Kankri’s feet and do anything he asked. But she had a feeling that this went farther than just roleplay.

  “K-Kankri?” She asked, trying to wriggle her mouth away from the finger at her lips. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Anger flared in Kankri’s eyes, and before she even saw it coming, she heard a sharp slap!, her own cry, and then the wave of pain that stung her cheek as her body tried to fall, but was secured by Kankri’s sudden strength. Fear and adrenaline numbed the pain, coursing through her bloodstream as she stared into the cruel eyes of her lover.

  “Did I say you could talk, slut?” He asked in a dangerously calm tone.

  At that moment, Damara made a flight or fight decision. She chose both, kicking Kankri in his white dick. He collapsed to the floor, but not before tearing the dress strap he had held. Damara didn’t care for shit, just unlocked the door as fast as she could, tearing down the apartment building’s stairs, throat dry and tears in her eyes.

_What the hell happened to him?_

  She didn't have time to form theories, however, hearing yells from her apartment upstairs.

  “You can’t run far, fat whore!”

  But she did. Damara made it to the door, then past the door, then into the night, a blur of red that didn’t care where she was going, just anywhere away from the apartment she once called home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spring break ends tomorrow R.I.P me  
> Soooooo yeah, some things are evidently different in this fic because it's humanstuck and fanfiction and I'm so tired please have mercy on my soul  
> Damara is 19 and Kankri is like 20 just so ya'll know  
> Staten Island is p great


End file.
